


This Could Be Your Home

by SpitfireRose



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Look man I'm just rambling here, M/M, Nightmares, Trust Issues, World of Ruin, feral child taken in by caring people and learning to love and trust, you all know what I'm about
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23296612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpitfireRose/pseuds/SpitfireRose
Summary: Alternatively titled "Excuse Me Sir This Is My Emotional Support Fic" and affectionately dubbed "Gladnis Feral Kid AU".Gladio and Ignis have been together for years and are at the point where one typically starts a family. However, seeing as they're essentially running Lestallum, it would be selfish and unfair of them to even consider it.Then Gladio finds the child.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey readers.
> 
> Originally I had gone on hiatus to prepare for the upcoming convention season, but much like most of the world, that has effectively been cancelled/postponed and for good reason I'm sure not objecting to. As a reader myself, I can relate to getting that email notification your favorite story has a new chapter and the joy that brings to a bad day. I want to do what I can to provide just a bit of an escape from the world's events, and for me, that's writing -- as difficult as it is to focus with everything going on and changing by the hour. 
> 
> All I ask in exchange is that you please take care of yourselves. Wash your hands. Talk to your loved ones. Stay home if you are in a position to do so. Keep a sharp eye on any symptoms you may develop and take the necessary precautions. Remind yourselves that yes, you may be isolated alone, but you are *not* alone.

Barely escaping Zegatus Keep with their lives and then stranded in Gralea during the first week of the Long Night, Gladio’s heard the stories whilst they were trying to make their way back to Cape Caem as a party of three -- one blind, one barely recovering from torture and trauma, and one demorallized after failing to Shield their Prince. 

Aranea Highwind found them in the midst of evacuating what few citizens remained in Niflheim and was never the type to sugarcoat irregardless of their delicate states. Daemons and the starscourge had swept all across Eos in full force the moment they lost Noct to the Crystal, leaving hundreds upon thousands of family members desperately trying to get in contact with one another. Missing person posters were printed en masse, social media platforms overwhelmed with pictures and profiles of those presumed dead, and from what they could hear from the airship’s crackling radio as they crossed the sea, pleas from impromptu refugee camps begging for their loved ones to find them there. Gladio will never forget his heart tearing in two and then shattering as a vast majority of those voices were _children_ , shrill and sobbing for parents lost in the split-second struggle to either protect or abandon them.

In each message, be it a post or verbal, there was grief, rage, resignation, hope -- most if not all directed towards their King believed to have abandoned his people.

And, by extension, his retainers.

Were it not for their network of allies -- Holly, Sania, Cor, Dustin and Monica, Cid and Cindy, Iris and Talcott -- and all the civilians they’d assisted during their roadtrip now a distant memory, Gladio holds no doubt they’d still have angry mobs at their heels. To this day they still have the disgruntled survivor heckling them over this or that, but in the end have to concede they’re doing all they can to ensure everyone’s health and safety in Noct’s absence.

An absence that so far has lasted nearly six years and not a day’s gone by where they’re not thinking of him. They only know he’s alive since _they_ are, their weapons and precious healing items still accessible from the Armiger they’d be long dead without. When the days get hard -- when _aren’t_ they --, and it’s hell to find a reason to keep moving forward, sometimes just summoning anything from there serves as a reminder to ready the world for his return.

Playing to their strengths, they’ve each assigned themselves where they’re needed most. Prompto mainly focuses on supply runs and hopping around place to place to fetch parts for Cindy as her personal assistant. Ignis is in his element advising his handpicked council to keep Lestallum running smoothly from the power plant to housing those displaced to greenhouses striving to keep fresh food on the table. As for Gladio, he does as he does best playing to his _literal_ strength in battle prowess and shielding those from harm because he’ll be damned if he fails again.

He hasn’t today, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been a hell of a day anyway.

In truth, every day in The Long Night _is_ hell in some form or another with sparse moments of peace between. All things considered, today hasn’t been particularly bad and the reason for that is no one’s dead. After spending a good portion of their shift consisting of patrolling their walls and ensuring their pylons are secure, Gladio and his team of Hunters make it to Old Lestallum with hardly any daemon interference on the road. Their good fortune in that regard runs out, however, with monsters prowling the outpost’s heavily lit perimeter. It takes a good amount of battling the beasts back before the barricade beckons them inside, supply trucks rolling in first before he and his Hunters run inside closing gates. The Shield always finds it easier to breathe once everyone and everything is secured, but there’s still getting back to Lestallum once they’re through dropping off the essentials here. If there’s anything Gladio learned from their roadtrip days years ago, it’ll only take one mishap for plans to go array and improvisation holding the key to survival. Six knows how many close calls he’s had in both and it never gets any easier watching an ally go down.

If screeching tires and bellowed commands didn’t alert survivors to their arrival, they definitely have an audience now of refugees young and old swarming around their vehicles. Supplies ranging from rations to tools to weapons are distributed amongst the appropriate parties, weary frowns easing to tired smiles born from peace of mind as they’re gifted slivers of hope to keep on keeping on through another day. Seeing fragile hope bloom before him delivers a personal brand of peace of mind knowing he’s doing something right and _useful_ when the world’s shit and all feels hopeless. Gladio’s been raised to power on and push through, but sometimes he needs _this_ like air like it’s the only thing keeping him from spiraling into a nosedive.

Ignis, too, of course. 

Six knows where he’d be without him and yeah, he has Iris, Prompto, Talcott, Cor, Monica and Dustin -- a lot of friends and family also at his side, but no one _gets_ him like Ignis does and vice versa. They’re a perfect match, partners in both battle and love.

Dispelled from his thoughts by Auri’s call, he’s waved back towards the trucks where the thankful crowd’s all but dispersed save for a clear family unit of five. They’re about as mismatched as they come but as Gladio’s witnessed from the scourge-imposed apocalypse, a family can be whatever survivors are lucky enough to find one another after losing their own. In this case, it can be two adult women, a teenager, a small boy, and a baby. Gods, just seeing _a baby_ makes him more emotional than it probably should and he’s tempted, so tempted to ask if he can hold them were he not currently the definition of a hot mess fresh off the battlefield. 

The boy takes an immediate liking to him, stars shining in green eyes like he’s some big name celebrity. He was once, and for the past six years he’s been wondering if he’s still worthy of that title. The kid’s way too young to know him from his time as the Prince’s Shield, -- hell, even remember the _sun_ \--, clearly just starstruck from having watched him fight back daemons on their way in. Sweaty and grimy and aching in places, he’s somehow the picture-perfect hero for the boy to look up to, wide-eyed and re-enacting his feats with an air of overwhelmed gusto. With all the dark grim shit they deal with on a daily basis, it...it’s really wholesome to see a kid act like a kid, and Gladio manages a grin as exhausted as he is.

One of the women has finished speaking with the Huntress and there’s a delicate fondness to her while turning her gaze over to her son, likely the most ecstatic she’s seen him in awhile. He can’t even begin to imagine the weight of the world on the shoulders of parents trying to provide even a semblance of safety and stability. 

“They want passage to Lestallum. Potentia here says she’s an engineer and could help at the power plant. We could always use more hands and we do have room now that the supplies have been delivered.”

‘Room’ meaning some will have to sit in the truck beds, but room nonetheless. What concerns him is if _Lestallum_ will have room. They’re packed in like sardines as is while accommodating for survivors from other Outposts not as fortunate to be as close to their main base like this one is. The puzzle of placing people into housing and shelters has been a major head and heartache of Ignis’s since day one and a major reason why he’d needed to elect a committee to oversee it as he couldn’t possibly have handled such a massive problem all on his own, pride be damned. It’s kind of morbidly convenient in a way that their death rate far exceeds birth rate.

But in any case Auri’s right. The power plant needs all the help it can get for humanity to survive and so they’ll no doubt be placed as priority for housing, whatever that may wind up being. He and Ignis are fortunate to have a flat of their very own as a perk for making sure the whole city doesn’t burn to the ground. It’s the lap of luxury with _two_ bedrooms although they often sleep together when their schedules align; the other unofficially dubbed as Prompto’s when he’s in town.

Escort agreed upon, Gladio’s a sucker for the kid’s bright, genuine smile when asked if they can ride together. Hoisting the boy -- “Venandi, but you can call me Ven, Mr. Gladio.” -- up into the passenger seat to sit on the teen’s lap, the rest of the family, their meager belongings essentially whatever they can carry, and his Hunter squad of six are more or less split up between their other two trucks. Hypocrisy on seatbelts aside, the haphazard arrangement would make Ignis balk were he here, but it’s the best they can do with pickups proving to be The Long Night’s vehicle of choice. Were it not for Cindy constantly performing maintenance to keep them and their headlights running in optimal condition, the warrior highly doubts they’d have lasted as long as they have. He also highly doubts she’d be able to live with herself should anyone meet the same fate as her parents, not if she can help it.

It’s a two hour drive from Old to new Lestallum, and he’s pretty sure Ven chatters through much of it. The boy reminds him a lot of Prompto -- at least, how he once was --, bouncing on his older sibling’s lap while tuning in the radio to whatever music channels are open. Outside of Dino and Vyv’s news stories and EXINERIS’s updates, there’s hardly any other stations, but there’s at least one musician or two out there broadcasting Astrals only knows how and quite honestly, Gladio doesn’t care so long as they don’t stop much like the street performers dedicating hours of their day to play. Sometimes having a little melody sing out in the cold, dark world makes people feel connected in the universal way only music can achieve and he’ll take that over unsettling silence any day. 

In an alternate universe that was once their normal one, Gladio entertains the idea of this being just a usual afternoon drive save for the eternal night sky. It’s mundane normality at its finest, merely taking his family on a roadtrip of their own meanwhile a solo guitar player plucks away at some tunes in the background. Instead of passing the time with idle conversation consisting of child-friendly content, the young survivor who doesn’t remember a time when the sun shone and daemons weren’t a constant threat asks him all there is about being a Hunter and he tones down tales that are anything but. By the way the teen occasionally looks over at him during certain parts he skims over, they know the details he omits with haunted eyes and heavy shadows underneath. Music, Gladio supposes, isn’t the only universal connection between strangers as they then glance back toward the window, tense as the looming shadows they pass by. 

Deeming it time for a change of topic, there isn’t really one _to_ change to and not to mention conversation isn’t necessarily one of the behemoth swordman’s strengths. Were Ignis here, he’d effortlessly find something to talk about to pass the time, like a recipe he’s come up with using their weekly rations, or even Prompto talking about his photography gig with Vyv or tinkering away at Hammerhead when he has the time. But Ignis is in Lestallum, Prompto’s at Meldacio Hunter HQ last he heard, and Noct...

Throat tight, the Prince’s Shield tries thinking about anything else other than _that_ day and dumbly settles on telling them about Lestallum since it’s on his mind and they’re heading that way anyway. There’s not much to go on, but he tries composing himself over positives their main base provides. 

EXINERIS’s power plant is a given considering their mother is going to work there and so he makes sure to mention Holly and what a great leader she is. Thanks to the efforts of a few surviving Kingsglaive members, they’ve got their own chocobos -- kids still like them, right -- that are helping reconnect pylons which his good friend Prompto loves to photograph. While the popular food market _is_ still active, it isn’t quite the same as it was with rations and scavenged machine parts replacing fresh, ripe produce which can be exchanged for other goods and services. The area also doubles as an impromptu soup kitchen so those unable to work will still be fed. Of course he can’t mention food without Ignis, the love of his life, and their greenhouses’ valiant efforts to grow whatever they can. While he thinks he’s being informative to their interests, it turns out Ven has a more pressing question and that’s if there’s any other kids in Lestallum. He can’t imagine how lonely it must be to be the only one around their age, and so he racks his brain for any little ones he can think of having spotted. Iris and Talcott aren’t children anymore at a respective twenty-one and thirteen next month, though they’ll always be at heart as much as The Long Night’s forced them to grow up quicker than they should’ve. Back to the matter at hand, he thinks he’s probably seen a few about here or there, and the boy opens his mouth to ask another question when something big and dark swipes across the road.

Astrals above, it’s a miracle he doesn’t hit anyone while catching the truck from swerving out of control meanwhile unleashing a slew of swears he hopes the kid won’t repeat. At a sharp gasp from his right it strikes him they might not have gotten off lucky after all when sharply pivoting his head towards his passengers while simultaneously keeping an eye outside. The teen clutches the boy impossibly tight but they appear unharmed if not shaken.

Or in the older sibling’s case, _incredibly_ shaken with panic radiating off them akin to Prompto after a real bad nightmare. Before Gladio can try and comfort them as best he’s able from behind the wheel since pulling over is far from safe with that _thing_ lurking nearby, Ven squirms and twists around in their hold to pat their cheeks gently with his tiny palms.

“S’okay, Melos. We’re okay.” Helplessly the behemoth swordsman watches from his peripherals as the child whispers to them with the calming wisdom a child shouldn’t so readily possess in the aftermath of something heartstopping. “See? We’re okay.” 

Melos is silent, but they clasp his little hands in their own and hold them to their face, bowing their head to rest against the kid’s unruly brunet mop.

“ _Holy sh--crap, you guys good?”_ A Hunter’s voice crackles over on his walkie-talkie and Gladio bites his tongue while keeping one hand firm on the wheel to pick it up.

“Define ‘good.’”

 _“How is Melos?”_ This one he doesn’t recognize but can presume to be either Potentia or her partner and he replies with their son working to calm them down. _“That’s our Ven, always so helpful. Deep breaths, remember, Melos? Like Mum and I taught you. Deep breaths, baby.”_

Melos hiccups and Gladio’s honestly never felt so terrible in his life even when doing the best he could to avoid disaster. The only solace they’ve got is Lestallum’s just a half-hour away now and it’s the longest thirty minutes he’s ever endured. There’s loads of times where he’s never felt so relieved to see the welcoming beacon of home, but this tops it as he’s the first to drive in. Before the truck’s even fully in park, Melos bolts out the door with Ven and he can hear retching with sobs between.

Clambering out of the driver’s seat, he’s quick to their sides and judging the best course of action to ease their suffering. At least here he’s an expert in handling panic and sickness from both Prompto and raising his baby sister, and he rubs their back as Ven tries to coach them through it. They’ve got a crowd before he knows it and he’s about to tell them to back the fuck off when he recognizes those approaching as their guardians with the baby meanwhile his Hunters keep unwanted civilians at bay and ordering them to move along. Potentia’s partner kneels beside them, praising Ven for the good job he’s done before ushering him to join his other mother and infant. For a good moment he expects to see anger flashing in her eyes for some reason or another, but there’s nothing but empathy as she coaxes Melos with a few tender words of her own. Numbly he thinks to offer his canteen and she thanks him as they’ve calmed down enough for water. 

“Sorry for the scare.” Gladio finally finds the words to say after a moment, but she shakes her head while holding her hand out for the teen to hold. They clasp on and squeeze once, and she runs a hand through their hair before kissing their forehead. “I uh, mighta cursed and that couldn’t’ve helped. Sorry about that too, Melos.”

They turn to look at him, eyes the mirrors to their shaky soul, but otherwise remain silent.

“Please take no offense, but Melos doesn’t speak.” She explains for them as they avert their gaze and nod with a nervous bite to their lip that reminds him a lot of Prompto too. “They’re mute, you see. Please understand.”

Their mother doesn’t go into any more detail than that, but it’s all Gladio needs to know. Everyone has their own story, and Astrals only know what degrees of trauma folks have endured. Hell, when Ignis feels confident enough to leave their apartment without his visor, the scars around his eyes are automatically presumed to be from a daemon just like everyone else that's scarred from head to toe. Some are even missing limbs and sport prosthetics crafted by Cid. A lot, if not the vast majority, are scarred deeper than the skin and suffer from nightmares and post-traumatic stress where there’s very little escaping it in this world. Whatever Melos’s story is, Gladio sure as hell doesn’t take offense if they don’t speak.

He _understands._

“Hey, you don’t gotta worry about me.” He reassures as warmly as he can, feeling a bit more confident himself as they blink. “Heck, you got nothin’ _to_ worry about with a family like yours.”

There’s a wobbly smile and for a moment it’s like the sun’s shining through the clouds.

Taking that as a sign it’s okay to come back, Ven practically drags Potentia by the hand towards them and Gladio takes a step back to give them all a moment. Something in his heart aches while watching them interact just like any other family, all soft and tender and _loving._ Ven wraps his little arms around Melos as best he’s able and they return the embrace in kind. The baby gurgles and their mothers look at them with all the adoration in the world.

They’re happy because they’re finally home.

Together, as a family.

Someone from the Relocation Committee comes over to chat with them and he takes that as his sign to officially get out of their hair -- after ruffling the kid’s and wishing them the best of luck. They’re incredibly grateful to him and his Hunters just for getting them here in one piece and a promise is made that he’ll have to visit once they’re all settled in. 

Ignis too, of course.

Finally free to walk away, Gladio reconvenes with his squad and they all break up into readying equipment in preparation for the next squad to take over. Weapons are cleaned, trucks inspected for damage and refueled, and supplies restocked. While the tasks are checked off their lists, the Shield can’t help but steal glances at the family as the two parents speak with the Relocation member and his heart tugs longingly in his chest. He wonders -- not for the first time and certainly not the last --, the same thought he’s had since the darkness fell and their futures became uncertain.

_If Noct was still here and the Long Night never happened, would me and Iggy have started a family by now?_

It isn’t as though Gladio doubts he’d make a great father and Astrals knows Ignis would be nothing short of fantastic, it’s just every time he thinks of _that_ it’s countered by a considerable amount of selfishness which convinces him otherwise. All of Lestallum -- no, all what remains of _Eos_ \-- is relying on them to see humanity through this crisis. They don’t, as much as he yearns for it with his gentle giant of a heart, have time to...to settle down and start a family when there’s daemons to slay and a whole city to run. Hell, they’ve been holding off getting engaged for years now in determination to wait for Noct to return so he can attend their wedding even when every day is a roll of the dice to survive.

But Gods, Gods does Gladio _want_ one.

Ven shouts for his attention as they’re about to be guided to the power plant and enthusiastically waves him goodbye.

Gladio waves back and feels his heartstrings pulled like a marionette.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio and Ignis talk about potential parenthood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are doing as well as you can given the circumstances. I think we all could use some sweet, domestic Gladnis fluff, wouldn't you say?
> 
> Enjoy <3

Bidding his Hunters a good night’s rest, Gladio treats himself to a few pieces of beef jerky left in his pouch whilst trudging through the city which never sleeps much anymore for a different reason. Years ago Lestallum was home to a bustling nightlife they themselves had taken part in once or thrice, but now hardly anyone is out in the late hour. Although the streets are generally empty with the only company being fellow Hunters and Kingsglaive on night patrol, the Shield keeps his guard up against winding dark alleys crawling in shadow. It isn’t daemons he worries about since there’s no place safer than Lestallum with their power plant keeping the city’s lights burning bright, but rather pickpockets and foolhardy muggers. Despite their valiant efforts to accommodate for everyone, it hasn’t stopped those stooping to petty crime to gain an upper hand. At least those he’s had the unfortunate task of apprehending are remorseful of their actions -- just desperate people resorting to desperate means -- and willing to serve out their sentence by serving their community equally willing to serve them better. 

While Gladio doesn’t run into any delinquents unwise enough to try mugging the Shield of all people, his mind does. He wonders if Ven and his family have made it to their new home now, or at a makeshift shelter until theirs is ready. The district by the power plant is a nice place and the women that live there are something else. It’s little wonder Iris had fallen in love with Lestallum so quickly with their strong independence, and it’s all thanks to Holly and them that they’re still revving at full throttle after all these years. If his not-so-little sister’s heart wasn’t set on becoming a “Daemonslayer” and seamstress at her small studio, Gladio’s certain she’d be right in there with them -- engineering, that is, instead of chomping at the bit to take on any daemons that worm their way inside. That reminds him, he should probably pay her a visit tomorrow morning to check in and see how she’s doing since opening the place up at the request of a few Kingsglaive members that are actually fans of her work. Clothing designs and fashion trends aren’t really his thing and especially now when there’s not much in the way of...well, brand-new clothes, but Iris is happy to tailor and provide, and that’s good enough for him so long as she doesn’t overwork herself irregardless of their Amicitia drive to push past their limits. She’s the only blood family he has left since their father perished alongside Regis and nearly all of Insomnia -- how many years _has_ that been again? Seven? The point stands that he’s protective of his baby sister as always even though she’s more than capable to look after herself now and constantly likes to remind him of that fact when excitedly regaling tales of Cor taking her out for training.

But back to those thoughts on family, Gladio can’t help but think of his own. Of Ignis, and what he wants to ask him even though he knows the Advisor will have a whole well-informed, factual argument to easily counter why they shouldn’t expand their little family of two -- not like he doesn’t already know it no matter how much the truth hurts.

His jerky dinner’s gone by the time he’s arrived at the apartment complex, striding past the front desk with a quick pleasantry exchanged with the clerk before riding the elevator to their floor. It isn’t as fancy as their rooms at The Leville they’d given up for those in need of a bigger, nicer space, but it’s still an okay enough place. In addition to the aforementioned two bedrooms, theirs has a bathroom with a tub _just_ big enough to fit him and a decently-sized living space with a small dining table, couch, a couple lamps, and a recliner that doubles as a rocking chair he’s crashed in more times than he’d care to admit. The kitchenette -- _intimate_ at best with how small it is --, is where Ignis spends much of his time-off when working from home and stress-baking with whatever he can get his hands on to donate towards the market’s soup kitchen thanks to the yeast he’s made from scratch.

As for where the hardworking Advisor is right now, Gladio finds him easily enough when silently stepping inside their bedroom. Even in sleep with mouth slightly agape and hair tousled beyond recognition of the pompadour style he’s slowly adapting, Ignis Scientia is as beautiful as ever and it takes what self-control he has _not_ to crawl into bed and ease his heavy heart’s burdens with a well-deserved snuggle. Though he’s grown accustomed to smelling like campfire, leather, sweat, blood, guts -- things he wishes he could forget --, Gladio knows he must stink and it’s a miracle Iggy’s heightened sense of smell hadn’t alerted him to his return since entering the threshold. Quietly as possible, he wills his tired bones into gathering his pajamas before heading into the bathroom for a shower to scrub away ick and grime with the last of his energy. 

More bits and pieces of the day’s events flow through him as they do each and every time he’s a moment to himself. Things he could have done better in battle. Things he needs to do tomorrow. Improvements. Reinforcements. Patrols. Numbers and strategies course through his head like they do the Advisor’s, and he rests his forehead against the shower wall beneath the spray, just letting tepid water rain down his aching tattooed back. As hard as this day was, Gladio has to remind himself of the positives. Thanks to him and his Hunters, people have supplies. They have hope.

A family is safe and together because of them, and maybe one day once this is all over, he might have one of his own.

Shutting the water off and toweling himself dry, he pulls his hair up into a loose bun and puts on only his pants, both having only the strength for it and that he could honestly use feeling Ignis’s skin on his own. That sentiment must be mutual as when he finally, tiredly crawls into their bed as gingerly as possible for his large size, Ignis immediately rolls over to naturally seek him out and latch onto like a marlboro. 

“Sorry if you heard me come in.” Gladio’s apology is sincere. He truly hadn’t meant to rouse him from much-needed sleep difficult to come by.

“I _smelled_ you come in.” Ignis mumbles drowsily, accent rough despite the tenderness in his tone much like his arms pulling the gentle giant to rest his head atop his collarbone.

“How about now?” The Shield quirks a half-smile he’s sure he can feel on his neck while wrapping his arms around his torso in kind like he’s truly _home_ now as he settles in his embrace. This way he can hear his beloved’s heartbeat thrum steadily in his ear and it’s one of the most beautiful sounds in the world especially when...when the world’s as it is. A melody which soothes his weary soul.

Ignis buries his face into his wild, wet mane scented with handmade soaps.

“ _Like you._ ” He breathes and Gladio feels the hair-tie nimbly pulled free as careful fingers then thread through his locks, his free hand searching for his to hold as they then intertwine together.

Soft, sweet, precious moments of genuine peace like these are priceless and bring the Shield to tears as much as he tries to resist this time. It isn’t as though Ignis would judge him, nor would he in turn as they’ve both sobbed in one another’s company, it’s just. He doesn’t want to tarnish this, but rather cherish and memorize every second, every warm touch and sweet kiss to remember like when prepping for a dangerous mission that’ll have him on the road for weeks on end except this time it’s mentally readying himself for a life-changing question.

Withstanding the call of sleep so that he can enjoy _this_ as long as he consciously can, Gladio tilts his chin up to press a soft kiss on Iggy’s jaw.

“Tell me about your day?” He asks first and the Advisor hums before dipping down to kiss his temple in return.

“It was quiet, if one could call it that.”

“Got a shortage of those.”

“Indeed, and incidentally in the marketplace as well.” The Shield makes an inquisitive noise. “The Head of Ration Distribution has reason to believe someone is stealing.”

Gladio frowns.

“A volunteer or...?”

“I’m not certain. At first it was small, hardly noticeable things -- a few mushrooms here, a couple nuts there -- which would’ve been missed entirely were everything not so meticulously organized.” 

“They learned from the best.” He doesn’t see it, but he’s sure Ignis is smiling while playfully batting his hair.

“Whomever they are appear to be growing bold. They, the Head, had let it slide at first, but now their records indicate they’re missing a can of tomato soup.” Ignis’s hand which holds his goes unnaturally still and Gladio gives him a reassuring squeeze following another jawline kiss. It speaks of the strange time they live in where there’s so much concern to be found in a can which, utilized wisely, can be stretched to feed a family. It’s more of one now when fresh produce isn’t as easy to come by without the sun, Sania’s greenhouses only able to replicate so much.

“Nobody’s seen this...” The swordsman doesn’t want to label them as a ‘thief’ because Six knows how hard everyone's trying to make things work, but people are _hungry_ and the last they need is a food shortage worse than what they already have. “This guy?”

“Not as of yet, no. I fear they will be before long, but I hope an understanding can be reached. I’m certain they meant no harm.” Ignis sighs and he sounds tired to where Gladio wonders just how long he’s been stressing over this and trying to strategize a plan should worse come to worst. “But as I said, a quiet day. Tell me of yours?”

“Definitely not quiet.” He snorts and it’s his beloved’s turn to give him a reassuring squeeze. “‘m fine, Iggy. It was a _good_ not quiet--except the daemons.”

“Hence the smell.”

“Haha.” Rolling his eyes he then rolls over himself to cage Ignis’s head in with both forearms, their joined hands still intertwined as he kisses him on his ever-sharp nose before resting their foreheads together. “I’ll have you know someone thought I was _very_ cool even if I did stink like a scourged Behemoth.”

“Oh? You’ve befriended someone without a sense of smell?” Ignis teases, lithe muscle flexing beneath him as a reminder the flexible acrobat of a fighter most certainly can and will change their positions without so much as batting a scarred eye. Truthfully nothing turns Gladio on more than the prospect of that, but now isn’t the time as he kisses him full on those scarred lips to lovingly shush him up.

“We picked up a ragtag family down in Old Lestallum and brought ’em up here -- one of the moms’ is an engineer. Their son, Ven, was a real talkative little guy. Big fan of Hunters.” It’s now where his voice softens and he’s sure even a blind man can see and feel the immediate shift as he swallows. “Seeing them all together and the love they had for each other, it. It, uh, got me thinking.”

Ignis tilts his head to the side, sightless gaze giving a supportive ‘I’m listening, love’.

_Here we go._

“Thinking about...having a family?” It should be embarrassing how his voice nearly cracks on the questioning lilt and how earnestly vulnerable he’s made himself to his selfish heart’s desire. All Ignis has to do is shoot him down. Tell him how unreasonable and irresponsible he is with every logical explanation and irrefutable facts he can’t deny.

But instead all he says is:

“Ah.”

Gladio’s heart drops so hard in his chest it physically hurts.

“Ridiculous, right?” Backpedaling from the conversation _hurts_. Ignis’s silence _hurts._ “There’s no way we --”

Gladio blinks the burning tears back and finds himself flipped over on his back, Ignis hovering over him with a pensive expression reading nothing but a frustrated yearning for how much he must wish to _see_ him. His lips find the tears beneath his eyes, soft and sweet and mending the ache in his heart. Glazed dull green locks with amber, the tender adoration held for his loved one palpable without sight. 

“My darling love, you needn’t hide your feelings from me.” Ignis whispers as he then kisses him on the lips with calculated precision resulting from years of practice, pressing their foreheads together once more as he finds his hand to hold. “I know how much you must long for a family of your own, and while I was never... _permitted_ time to entertain the idea in my youth, I’m not opposed to it.” 

Gladio can’t believe it.

“You’re supposed to say ‘no.’” He argues weakly. “It’s a _bad_ idea, babe.”

“How so?” An eyebrow is raised quizzically and the swordsman doesn’t understand why he should have to explain it to the intellectual chamberlain of all people.

“Because everything’s shit.” The Shield is blunt as he is honest. “You and me, we practically run this city, and kids, they require a lot of care and attention. I know from personal experience with Iris, and you with Noct.”

Ignis freezes and Gladio instinctively wraps his arms around him and pulls him to lay on his chest where he reluctantly settles in the crook of his shoulder. Right arm extended outwards as if reaching for something, a small potion emerges from the Armiger with a flash of crystalline teal light before it’s banished back from whence it came. It’s quiet then, an unspoken relief washing over them as Gladio kisses apologies into his disheveled hazel locks.

“He would wish for our happiness, you know.” Ignis murmurs after a moment and it goes right to his heart. “Do you not wish it? Having a family?”

“ _You’re_ my family, Iggy.” Gladio kisses his temple with a squeeze. “I don’t...I don’t want to wish for more.”

“Is it you’re afraid of parenthood?”

“No, I--a little, yeah, but I’m trying to be realistic here.”

“Then allow me to be realistic.” The Advisor rolls over top of him, and Gods is he just so beautiful that Gladio can’t help but cup his cheek. Ignis holds his hand there. “Yes, you and I do ‘run the city’ as it were, but we have _very_ competent leaders who can look after it in our stead. Cor, Monica and Dustin, Sania, Holly, Dave, our numerous committees -- that is what they have been trained for, should...should the unspeakable occur. I should think ourselves capable of handing the reins to them for a time.”

“Yeah, but you hate giving up control.”

Ignis smiles a small smile, kissing the palm against his cheek in a way to suggest he’d be happy to do so for _him_ to be happy.

“Speaking of ‘giving up’, we would have to inform poor dear Prompto he may lose his guest room -- that is, unless we wish to move to accommodate him and our theoretical child. Our flat is quaint for the two of us, but a bigger space would be ideal.”

Gladio raises an eyebrow.

“Thought you said you never had time to think of this?”

“In my _youth_.” Ignis reminds him, like he still isn’t young at _twenty-eight_ and Gladio only a year older _._ “You’ll recall I was in charge of housing for a time, and I needn’t remind you of a particular heartache.” 

Of where to home countless children rendered parentless to The Long Night and ultimately setting up an orphanage in the best district and building they could renovate to be run by the most compassionate folks they could find. It makes him emotional just thinking about the kids there that’ve grown up in the six years since and it’s both a blessing and a curse it isn’t as full as it once was due to both their near-stagnant population increase and how it’s stressed for families to have a plan for their children to stay with their closest living relative should the unthinkable happen. Though Potentia’s family has their hands full with Ven, Melos, and the baby, it wouldn’t hurt for the boy to try and make friends with what few young residents remain.

“We may not have the luxury of childrens’ supplies and toys, but I should think any child, young or old, would be grateful to have a home to call their own and for someone -- anyone, to love them. Especially in these times.” 

Gladio nods and tries to ignore the lump in his throat forming at the very real possibility for them to take in one...or two, if Prompto’s hints about his lonely childhood have given any insight.

“You really want to do this?” He asks like he’s one second away of waking from this impossible dream. “You want to raise a kid with me?”

“Ah, that’s what I neglected to mention, although I believed you already knew.” Ignis brushes the wild dark hair away from his forehead before cupping his cheek and stroking beneath an eye with a thumb. “You, Gladiolus Amicitia, are kind. You are warm, gentle, and caring. Your strength is immeasurable, as is that of your heart never finding incapacity to love. Fatherhood would suit you naturally, of that I have no doubt. In short, _yes_ , I would consider it an honor to raise a child alongside you.”

“Iggy....” Now he’s choked up, scrubbing beneath his eyes. “You’d be such a great dad, too. Don’t think you won’t, I. Fuck, I love you so much.”

“And I you, dearest heart.” When Ignis kisses him, he can feel dampness brush against his face and Gladio tenderly tugs him aside to gather him in his arms. 

There they lay, close as close can be, Iggy’s head tucked underneath his chin while he idly circles his back with a large palm, fingers interlaced between them. He can feel himself begin to drift off to the sweet, peaceful lull after the chaos of the day that’ll resume in but a few too-short hours. The heavy burden his heart once held has been lifted, albeit lingers. Although they’re both in agreement of adopting a child, they’ve only but scratched the surface of talk. It would be in _all_ their best interests -- theoretical child included -- to be as prepared as possible before moving onto the next step. There’s details to discuss, plans to be made, necessities to acquire -- it wouldn’t surprise him at all if the Advisor’s mulling over them right now when he ought be asleep -- and informing those on a need-to-know basis. Iris will be nothing short of ecstatic and drilling him for more information when there’s none to be had yet. Prompto’s good with kids thanks to Talcott, and sure to lend them a helping hand babysitting should they need...alone time. Ignis is right they should look into a bigger place so Blondie won’t have to resort to their couch each time he’s over, the extra space sure to do them all some good even if they don’t have much to offer in lieu of childrens’ things. Cor Leonis -- his mentor like a third father to him after Jared whom he still misses dearly --, is sure to take on the mantle of ‘grandpa’ with ease. Gladio expects the same of Monica and Dustin, the pair practically his aunt and uncle already. 

Then there’s...there’s Noct.

Gladio believes Ignis that he would be happy for his retainers like he’d been when discovering their relationship -- after mercilessly teasing them before seriously asking if _they_ were happy, which they were and still are in love after all these years.

“ _I love you.”_ He whispers into Ignis’s hair and receives a sleepy mutter against his collarbone in exchange that earns the goofiest, love-smitten smile he has. 

The sun may not shine come morning, but his outlook on life is brighter than it has been in a long time. Together, he and Ignis are going to be _parents._ Six, this kid -- _their kid_ \-- is going to be so _loved_ and realistically it’s still a long way out with everything they have to do, but his aforementioned gentle giant of a heart is already bursting with untold love and adoration.

Gladio can’t wait to bring them home.


End file.
